Darkness to Light
by Watashi-wa-inori-tsuzukeru
Summary: For years, the paladin Tenaebriis Dawnslayer has been a righteous hand of the Scarlet Crusade; but everything changes when the very thing she was fighting for cripples her. Now, she must set aside her prejuducies and accept aid from a Draenei Vindicator to seek redemption though the very thing she'd become blind to: the Light.
1. Preface

**A/N: **There's a story behind this, LOL. Look, basically, every time I start playing a new alt on WoW, I come up with a story for them. These days, I write them out and post them here for your enjoyment. So...yea. To anyone waiting for Hellfire's next chappie, I hope this can hold you over for a bit...For the record, I do plan on it being a romance...it just fit into so many categories! Angst, tradgedy, hurt/comfrot, romance, drama, adventure...So I settled for the last two 'cause they're pretty broad xD

Onwards...

* * *

Candlelight flickered brightly, tiny beacons mounted atop tall scones and countless layers of melted wax. The warm glow illuminated grand, pale marble columns, floors, and walls that were pitted with simple yet gorgeous stained-glass windows, their colors muted in the night.

On any other eve, the wide hall would have murmured with strains of hymn and prayer, perhaps softly spoken chants or teachings in the smaller, bookshelf-lined rooms that diverged from it. Tonight, however, the sculpted cathedral was occupied by a reverent, hollow silence, broken only by harshly echoing footsteps and the whip-like snap of a cloak.

At the far end of the great cathedral hall, in front of a small rise of steps that led to up to a raised dais and the alter upon it, were three figures. One was slight and soft, womanly curves just showing in the mold of thick robes. Another, though just as tall, and perhaps near as thin as the former woman, was much different, clad head to toe in heavy armor, a greatsword sheathed across her back. The last of them towered far above the other two, chest alone nearly as broad as the woman might stand shoulder-to-shoulder; he too was garbed in armor, and a great hammer hung from his shoulders. Two Human women, and one Draenei man.

The warmth of the candles…reached none of them.

The armored woman was pacing in tense strides, her blood-red cloak cracking with each turn. Her posture was rigid with barely-contained tension, her features twisted into a snarl. In a sudden whirl she faced the other woman, her bright blue eyes quickened with a vindictive light in no way related to the mild radiance lighting the room. She stabbed a finger at the man, her arm rife with small tremors—of anger or fear, none knew.

"You cannot ask me to venture alongside that creature, that _abomina—_" She cut off as if choking, her jaw snapped shut around the words. But still, they hung in the hungry air.

_Abomination._

"I will not work with this…_man_, Priestess. I beg you, reconsider." She finished in a visibly strained tone. The robed woman, the Priestess, stared at her solemnly, her sweet features smooth and reserved.

"'Tis not _my _will, Lady Dawnslayer. You know this. Do not turn from the Light."

The armored Lady Dawnslayer sneered, but her accusing hand fell.

"Priestess, I cannot do it. To trust in something inhuman, it cannot be condo—"

"Would you surrender so quickly, friend?" Finally, the man spoke. His voice was a deep, serene bass, a rumble made light with the unique tones of the Draenei. "You seek _kure,_ redemption. To do this, you must walk in the Light, yes."

Dawnslayer went still, just for a moment, and then she was facing the Draenei, her enormous blade bared with a singing rasp.

"What do you know of the Light, creature?" She spat, raising the blade high above her, to his throat. Golden vapors misted around her fingers and wreathed up the sword's edge, and the righteous fire shining in her eyes flashed.

"Peace, friend." He said in the same gently urging tones. His only response was the biting edge of metal pressed against his neck.

A beautifully carved, gold-adorned staff clanged against the flat of the blade.

"Stop this, Lady Dawnslayer. You are a paladin. _Do not turn your back on the Light._" When the Priestess gained no response, she tried again. "This man is not only a fellow paladin, but my friend, and he is also an ally of the Alliance, as are the rest of his people. As High Priestess, I am ordering you, by the power given to me by the Church of Holy Light, _stand down Dawnslayer._"

"You need not say such things, my friend." The man admonished, raising his large hands in a placating gesture. "This friend is no threat."

Surprisingly, Dawnslayer laughed. It was a short, barking sound, full of spite, but it was genuine still. The Priestess shifted uneasily.

"For all your years, you are a great fool, creature, to think the wolf with its jaws around your throat means not to harm you." The man smiled at her, the smooth, deep planes of his face warping like molten rock.

"I do not think so, friend. I believe the wolf a wiser beast than many."

"_Wisdom_," Dawnslayer hissed, her previous humor fading like morning mist. "Does not temper _instinct. _And instinct demands survival. I shan't let myself be killed by one of you horse-footed demonkin."

The Draenei's face hardened in the blink of an eye.

"We are not _Man'ari,_ girl. You would do well to remember that."

"And so the beast bears its fangs. I was beginning to believe the tales of your monstrosity a peddler's jape." Her lip curled. "It is satisfying to know my assumptions are founded, _creature._"

"I would call you friend, girl. You are rash, and your heart is full of rage and pain. These are things experience and compassion and time will heal; but you must seek them." Dawnslayer opened her mouth to speak, but he overrode her. "No. Enough insults. You seek to become _Kurenai. _You seek atonement in the Light. This needs respect, tenacity, and compassion. You have these no longer. You must reclaim them."

"That may be; but my atonement has nothing to do with the likes of you. I cannot be purified if I keep such corruption company."

"You say I am corrupt. As are you."

"You do not seek redemption, creature. You seek to shepherd me, and I am no sheep."

"No." He looked down at her, but her eyes would not meet his. They simply stared through him. "I am not here to lead you about, friend, though you would benefit from proper guidance. My presence is the will of the _Naaru._ O'ros granted me vision, and in it I saw you, and I knew that my future and your own were intertwined."

"I'll not condone you because your gods deigned it."

"The _Naaru _are not gods, friend. They are creatures of the Holy Light, and they are closer to it than any of us can comprehend." He brought his hand to the blade at his throat, but did not push it away. "Peace, friend. I beg you."

"Please, Lady Dawnslayer." The Priestess, previously forgotten, murmured.

Dawnslayer closed her eyes, her lips pulling back in a snarl. She tipped her head back, breathing deeply. In, and out. In, and out. In, and out…

She lowered her blade.

Shoulders slumped, greatsword hanging limp in her grip, she looked much smaller than she had.

"Why are you here, Draenei?" She asked tiredly, as if exhausted by the greatest of burdens. Her eyes had gone dark, and compared to their earlier brilliance they now seemed hollow.

"To save you." He said simply, and she barked another laugh, this one bitter and aged.

"You cannot save me. Nothing can."

"Then why are you here, attempting to do so?"

For the briefest of moments, she looked _at _him, her eyes flickering up…just one second…and then away.

"My reasons are my own, Draenei."

"As you say, friend."

"Do not call me 'friend'." She turned away, walking past the High Priestess, up the stairs, stopping before the alter.

"Then what would you have me call you?"

A pregnant pause…and then…

"Tenaebriis."

"_Tenaebriis._" He repeated softly, tasting the unfamiliar word that twisted oddly on his tongue. "Tenaebriis Dawnslayer."

"Yes." She replied, though it had been a statement.

"I am Luuxn. May the Light emrace you."

"And you." The response was quick, automatic perhaps.

"Lady Dawnslayer…?" The High Priestess trailed off, half-prompting, half-questioning.

"Laurena," She murmured. "I would have your forgiveness for my acts of violence in this hall. 'Tis not befitting a sanctuary of the Light."

None of them mentioned what she did not seem to regret. Perhaps, it was not expected.

"Of course, daughter."

"Thank you."

She stood there, before the alter, for a handful of minutes, and silence reigned. Her fingers would tighten spasmodically around the hilt of her weapon, but otherwise she was still. Her posture warred, her shoulders rising and falling in conflict.

And when they finally slumped, either in victory or defeat, she spoke again.

"Let us be gone, Draenei. I'll not linger."

"So be it." Luuxn said kindly, his benevolent demeanor returned. He looked down at the Priestess and nodded to her, smiling. "Good fortune to you, my friend. May the Light embrace you."

"Light bless you, Vindicator Luuxn."

Tenaebriis descended the steps, pausing briefly at Laurena's side. She laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Light bless you, High Priestess Laurena."

"Light bless you, Lady Tenaebriis Dawnslayer."

With that, the paladin sheathed her sword and walked from the Cathedral of Light, out into the darkness of the night.

And the Draenei followed.

* * *

_125 Days Earlier_

"Legionnaire." A young man garbed in raiment of red and white acknowledged, snapping into a respectable salute. The gangly fellow he'd been chatting with simply stared, and was sharply elbowed for it. "Fool! Show your respect!" His companion hissed at him. "That's one of the Crimson Legion!"

"Oh! Uh…L-legionnaire!" He stammered, eyes wide and fearful with the dawning prospect of having possibly just insulted someone far above his rank. The woman glanced at them as she passed.

"Crusaders."

With purposeful strides she continued towards the abbey, mounting the milky-pale steps to the sounds of Guardsmen hailing her.

Inside the abbey, she was greeted with the faces of several scarlet-clad priests, clerics, disciples, and defenders. At the head of them all was a woman armored in red and gold, a marked shield and a mace at her side. Her face, framed by stray auburn locks from her simple bun, may have been considered lovely, even youthful, if not for the alert, aged quality to it. She stood stiffly, militant, but her pretty, stern features slipped into a tempered smile as her eyes lit upon the newcomer.

The woman drew the great blade strapped across her back and dropped to one knee, bowing her head to the hilt of her sword before her in a knightly pose. In an even tone conveying the utmost respect, she addressed the auburn-haired commander.

"High General Abbendis." The general inclined her head slightly in return.

"Legionnaire Dawnslayer."

The High General raised a hand and waved away the others present, who paused but to salute before quickly marching out. When the last of them disappeared through the carved stone entryway, a true—and perhaps a tad mad—grin broke out across the general's features, and she extended her arm toward the prostrate Dawnslayer.

Dawnslayer stood swiftly and strode up the to the general, clasping her forearm tightly, smiling at her, and pulled her into a brief embrace. When they parted, the general took her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length, studying her. After a moment's scrutiny, she crinkled her nose in an almost-dainty fashion.

"I so wish I could so time has not been kind to you, Tenaebriis. Evidently, it has been much kinder to you than to me."

"Nonsense!" Tenaebriis laughed. "That mad sneer of yours is as beautiful as ever, Brigitte."

"You won't be laughing when I have you named a traitor." Brigitte Abbendis muttered tersely, but the good humor lingering on her lips took away any malice. Tenaebriss sighed softly, stepping away from the general.

"Time has not been kind to you, old friend…" She paused, and sighed again. "Eight years…You have my condolences. I am sorry. Your father was a brilliant, honorable man. He knew the truth of the Light." Brigitte's visage darkened.

"Thank you, Teneabriis. But that was eight years past, and I'll not ressurect those ghosts now." Her eyes were dancing steel. "No, I'd much rather bury the world in the ashes of those damned corpses. Eight years they have known the fire of Holy Light for what they've done, and for many more will they burn for it."

"Aye. We shall smite those unholy creatures all, and have back our homeland."

The High General clasped a hand on her friend's shoulder, but now the bare smile she gave was grim and set.

"It is good to have you here, Tenaebriis. One of the Crimson Legion! Your skill will purge hundreds alone."

"Thousands. And many more." Her tone was black, vicious with the zeal of such dark promise.

"And many more." Brigitte agreed. "Go. Find Valdemar. Speak with him, and afterward, rest. We've much to do."

"Yes, High General." Tenaebriis bowed her head, stepped back, saluted once more, and left.

* * *

_Dear Lucaius,_

_I arrived at Tyr's Hand today, Brother. Brigitte is here. Brigitte Abbendis. Remember her? I know you do...you fancied her, you told me so! _

_She's a hard woman now, Brother. Strong. I admire her. She's High General now, did you know? You must. Her father would be with you. You were both such good men._

_Brigitte and I will fight for you. We have been, and we will continue to do so until the Scourge are annhiilated. Once that is done, I can join you. Finally, we can see each other again. _

_I miss you, Brother. But I must be strong. I will see the Light brought to Lorderan. For you, Brother. For you, I must be strong. I pray to the Light that I can be as stronger as Brigitte is. She is so righteous. It burns in her. The flames leap in her eyes and I believe she will truly smite the undead monsters._

_But my heart, Brother...It feels as if a hot coal in my chest. The fire is flickering, Brother. I think of you, and the flames roar, they do. But it seems as if even as I burn everything around me, I cannot feel their heat. As if I too am dead._

_Perhaps I died with you Brother. I suppose it is a good thing I will burn this when I send it to you. These words are traitors to the Crusade and myself._

_Take care, Brother._

* * *

**A/N: Could reeaally use some tips from anyone who RP's a draenei. I've been reading guides, but it's hard. =/ **

**Reviews are love! XD Thanks for reading, my dears.**


	2. Test of Faith

**A/N: **And so it begins in earnest. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Many thanks to _The Silent Poet _for their review and the tips/info. I am so spamming you w/ more Draenei-related questions in the near-future. /hug**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

_124 Days Earlier_

"…nd so be unafraid of death, my brothers, my sisters! We have _seen_ what is reaped when we grant death power over us! We have _seen_ what fearing it does! We battle the evil born of such a blasphemous union each day! We give those who would consort with death free reign when we give it a place in our hearts! It is because we were afraid to die that the unholy abominations of the risen dead now surround us and corrupt our homeland and our people! So do _not _fear death, brothers and sisters! When you have sufficiently served your purpose, when you have served the Light, it shall come for you, and be not afraid to go into its arms! For certainly, a true death is but a path in the Light. Falter, and you would know the tain…"

Whatever remained of the esteemed preacher's sermon faded into unintelligible—if spirited—vociferations as Tenaebriis entered the small, adjoining study from the main hall of yet another of Tyr's Hand's churches. Having so many holy houses was certainly a great blessing, but she certainly wished her commander would _stay _in one.

_Perhaps I ought to speak with her on the topic. _She thought idly. _It would do no good to have to search her out in time of crisis._

Rapping firmly on the doorframe, Tenaebriis saluted and assumed a proper position as she waited to be acknowledged, hand fisted over her heart and head bowed. She had to wait only a few moments before the scratching of a quill on parchment ceased and the High General murmured for her to enter.

"High General Abbendis." She saluted, and Brigitte nodded at her, standing from behind her desk with a sigh. Spread around her were maps of the Plaugelands and the Eastern Kingdoms, letters and correspondences, ink-splattered, scrawled pages, and various forms and reports.

"Legionnaire Dawnslayer." She stretched, rubbing a sword-calloused hand over her face. "By the Holy Light, Teni. I haven't seen so much activity in a long while."

Tenaebriis smiled slightly at her old nickname, but creased her brow at her commander's unrestraint. _She must be stressed to be so familiar. _

"Be well, Brig. The Light will preserve us. You are far too driven to allow paperwork be the death of you."

"Hah! Say that again once you've got your own army to lead, Teni. You'll be wishing you'd left your hair short, then."

"I rather like it this like this. And didn't you used to say there was little enough of me as was?"

"That's because you were thin then, and you're thin as _bones_ now. Am I missing something?"

"There's less of me for those forsaken corpses to grab on to this way, you know."

"So _that's _why you're all but bone and sinew?"

_No. I'm thin because everything I eat is ashes on my tongue, all my drink blood. Food does not sustain me: all I taste is my vengeance._

"Of course. You realize I must be able to strategize at my rank, yes?"

"All I ask is that you care for yourself, Tenaebriis. The Crusade cannot afford to be without you: we need every righteous hand, and I know few of higher than yours."

"I will not jeopardize our mission, Brigitte. Do not ever become fool enough to think so."

"If you were anyone else, Teni…" Brigitte warned, her eyes hard, and Tenaebriis bit her tongue fiercely for her mistake.

"I apologize, High General." She said evenly, dropping to one knee. "I have misspoken to one who supercedes me in the Light. Punish me as you so see fit, I beg you."

"Just stand up, Teneabriis." Brigitte sighed, and she was on her feet immediately. "I have an assignment for you."

"Yes, my lady?"

"I need you to take over the training of our recruits. I know it is below you, but you are the most skilled fighter we have, and I need the greatest army I can have."

"Nothing you see fit for me to do is below me, High General. I am but a servant of the Light."

"As are we all." Waving a hand at her, Brigitte rounded her desk and began shifting papers. "Go, Legionnaire. And if you should find one, send a Cleric to me. My head is beginning to ache."

"Would you not allow me to heal you, High General?" Tenaebriis asked, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards. Brigitte laughed loudly.

"You and I both know your healing proficiency is awful as sin, Teni. Go, and may the Light go with you."

"And you, High General." Saluting once more, Tenaebriis spun on her heel and marched out, intent on hunting down a priest.

* * *

When she arrived at the designated training yard some time later, having sent a healer to the High General, Tenaebriis caught her first glimpse of the young men and women she was to be molding into warriors of Light.

And was sadly disappointed.

There were, perhaps, twenty-some recruits scattered amidst the packed-earth expanse and battered dummies. The majority seemed to be men, but only just. Counting quickly, she assessed that there were fourteen boys and ten girls, and only one woman appeared to be any older than her late twenties. In all likelihood, she was Tenaebriis's senior.

_Ha. Only one your senior? You're old. Thirty doesn't get you much, these days. In fact, you're blessed to have lived this long. _

Returning her apt attention to the newlings, she noted with disdain that many were either standing casually, shoulders slumped, or outright sitting about as they chatted with one another. The slightly elder woman stood straight, hands behind her back, talking quietly with a younger man, perhaps twenty-seven or twenty-eight, who kept his shoulders back, though he seemed to be putting all his weight on one foot, his hip jutting out.

Had no one informed these slops that their superior and now-armsmaster would soon be upon them? If so, they certainly needed to be punished: this was no way to greet their standing officer.

And if not, well, some reprimand was still necessary. Members of the most holy Scarlet Crusade did not _slouch. _

Seeing that none of the recruits had seemed to notice her yet, she decided to make an overly extravagant entrance. _And enjoy the hoopla._

Pulling her winged helm firmly over her head, she loosened _Redemption _in her sheath on her back and summoned a cloak of holy light around her, allowing it to arch and wreath as it would. Breathing in deeply, she cast a simple spell to amplify her voice, and stormed onto the grounds.

If they didn't know to fear her yet, they soon would.

"_ON YOUR FEET, RECRUITS." _Tenaebriis roared from behind her helm, and was satisfied as the assembled flinched back in surprise, eyes swiveling about before locking on her, the light striking out around her reflected in their wide gazes and castling their faces in contrast. Those sitting scrambled to their feet, and all watched her warily. Ceasing her march several paces in front of the group, her back to the training dummies, she smoothly unsheathed _Redemption _and, both hands wrapped firmly around her two-handed hilt, reared back and drove her deep into the ground with all her might. Though the earth was hard-packed, the greatsword sank a bit more than three-quarters of its length into the ground.

Brought to one knee by the force of her lunge, Tenaebriis stood fluidly and pointed sharply at her precious sword, allowing her voice to return to its normal volume with an errant thought.

"Each of you," She barked, the light flaring up and falling with each word. "Will attempt to extract this blade from the earth. If you cannot do it, you will stay here in the yard tonight lifting logs," she gestured to the felled tree trunks used in their siege machines. "Over your shoulders until morning. And, should you fail tomorrow as well, you will stay the next night, and the next, until your body and your will are strong enough. _Each of you _must remove the sword before _any one of you _is allowed to rest. Am I understood?"

The incredulity in most of their expressions and the sheer horror in others gave a distinct 'maybe' in answer. The ones that angered her, however, were the defiant few of two of the boys'.

"And should you be wondering _why _you are to be listening to me, then know this: I am Legionnaire Dawnslayer, paladin of the Crimson Legion and your new commanding officer. Should you entertain the thought of defying me, know that through me you defy High General Brigitte Abbendis, Crusader Lord Vlademar, the Grand Crusader, and the Light itself. I would highly recommend against such traitorous thoughts, my new brothers and sisters; for we must stand against the Scourge, and only united, with no such poison in our midst, can we do so."

With pallid complexions, the recruits nodded. The older woman—she had to be in her late thirties, but no older, surely—snapped a salute, and the others sheepishly mirrored her.

"Yes, Commander!" Her voice was strained in the oddest way, sounding like rocks grating together. Looking closer, Tenaebriis realized the woman's neck was covered in wheals of scar tissue.

_By the Light. One of those undead abominations must have nearly torn her throat out._

"You, recruit," Tenaebriis called, gesturing the woman over. "Your name?"

"Marian Silvertouch, Commander." She replied as she approached.

_Silvertouch. Marian Silvertouch._

The name echoed in her head, calling back memories long since repressed: a plain golden chain, and from it dangling a sparse silver ring, its only ornamentation the engraved letters _LL_; a smoky cottage, with a modest smithy and a plethora of delicate shaping tools; a fountain in the square, surrounded by towering adults, that spun and spun as children laughed, running in circles around it; worried voices, speaking in hushed tones just outside the front door; a quiet, dark-haired girl, older, in her teens, worrying her lip as she stared across the fields…

Tenaebriis blinked dazedly, and noted the woman was staring at her, eyes tightening with concern. With a critical eye, she looked her over once more.

Dark hair, with streaks of silver at the temples, swept up into a severe bun, not at all the soft braids of memory…the face was aged, more mature, and held just little hints of the old softness…but those brown eyes were the same…and the high cheekbones…

_It couldn't be...and yet..perhaps…Mari?_

"You're from Corin's Crossing, aren't you?" The woman startled, her eyes going wide, before she nodded hesitantly.

"How did you know, Commander?" She asked, voice even, posture tense. With some resignation, arms heavy with the aching weight of such nostalgia, Tenaebriis reached up and removed her helm, looking this ghost of her past in the eye.

"It's Tenaebriis, Marian. Your family lived two houses down, across the road from mine. Your father sold Lu—" She choked on the word, but recovered well enough to continue. "…Sold my brother a ring. For you. Do you not remember me? I believe you gave me sweets, once, said I'd be…" Her voice dropped to a pained whisper. "That I'd be a lovely little sister."

The initial dawning of recognition played across Marian's features, followed by shock, wonder, and then a deep, reflective sadness. Her lips parted, as if to speak, and she opened and closed her mouth several times. A hand came up to cover her eyes as she breathed in and out in slow, heavy pants.

"Tenaebriis. _Tenaebriis._" She whispered."You…you…you and…oh, _oh, Lucai—_"

"Do not say his name." Tenaebriis snapped viciously, and her jaw clicked shut. The hand shielding her eyes fell away, and she noted the unshed tears in them. Lip curling with disgust, she looked away, over Marian's shoulder and up at the battlements.

"Go. Join the others and follow your orders." _We will not speak again. I will not._

Visibly gathering herself, Marian gave a stiff nod, saluted, spun, and marched back into the loose crowd of recruits hovering around _Redemption. _

Raising her voice again, she barked at them to form up a line and get moving, then retreated to stand among the dummies. Tenaebriis watched as the recruits tried—and spectacularly failed—for a moment before she turned a measure of her attention to the list of names she'd been given. The page wasn't overly long, but the black ink scrawls of spidery writing trailed down in two long rows. Sighing quietly, and with another glance up at a ginger-haired man going red-faced as he yanked at _Redemption_, she began to read.

_Nathaniel Arborl, Joshua Clearstill, Dana Coalburn, Felix Corr, Millie Darner, Gerret Fireheart, Susan Highland, Pete Janders, Logan Janders…_

_ Siblings. By the grace of the Light, _siblings. Tenaebriis examined the crowd of tiring men and woman again and soon picked out a pair of boys that were indeed staying close to one another, both of them fair-haired and freckled, though their eyes were different. Still, the resemblance was clear, in face and build.

_Damnation. Damn you, you monsters, for bring families into this. Damn you to the deepest pits of wrath and hellfire. _Clenching her jaw tightly, she made a mental note to speak with Brigitte at a later date to discuss the brothers, and kept reading.

_Carolina Khol, Maya Littlefoot, Jeremiah Larkk, Lilynette Marverstead, Will Mistsailor, Henry Ponce, Cailin Rennd, Kaitlin Roadbuilder, Jamie Rosebind, Ros Rowanshot, Fenn Silversmith, Marian Silvertouch, Grant Tapster, Quinten Tavaris, Meredith Younghold…_

Tenaebriis paused as she read each name, but none other than Marian's resurrected any memories long since abandoned. Relieved, she began calling out to her recruits, going down the list.

Even by the time she was done, no one had managed to extract _Redemption. _As the sun sunk low in the sky, she lined them all up and organized them into four groups of six, one of the massive logs to each group. Once all were in place with a log poised on their right shoulders, she ordered them to begin lifting it over their heads, back and forth, and settled in to watch them for any signs of flagging.

_Let the first night begin._

* * *

121 Days Earlier

After three painful days, and two even more agonizing nights, there was finally a case of success. Gerret Fireheart, a former blacksmith's apprentice, heaved _Redemption _free shortly after sun-up. Tenaebriis took the proffered blade from his grasp, gripped the young man's wide shoulder—Light, they were bigger than her _head_—and told him to go back to the barracks and get something to eat, with instructions to return thereafter. He gave her a small smile and a salute, and went off.

That first victory seemed to spur on the remaining battered recruits with the revelation that it was indeed possible to pull the damned sword free. They went at it with new vigor after Tenaebriis did her best to entomb her greatsword at the same depth as before, and by high noon, _Redemption _had been freed thrice more. Will, Cailin, and Meredith had also succeeded.

The High General stopped by briefly on her way to one of the other abbeys about Tyr's Hand, seeming pleased with the progress. Brigitte was amused, Tenaebriis could tell, by the abuse of the newlings, but she made an excellent show of saying that the Light blessed such dedication and hard work; at the least, it was still a true statement.

_And seeing them falling them over themselves to properly address Brig was certainly interesting. Perhaps I'm beating some sense into them after all. _

She called a halt to the proceedings so that the recruits could have a brief lunch of lightly cooked greens and fresh bread, though she did not take part herself. She noted Brigitte gave her a displeased look at that as she took her leave, but was glad she said no more on the topic, disapproving or not.

While her men lunched, Tenaebriis drew _Redemption _from her earthen prison, sat, sword across her lap, on one of the discarded logs, and began a meticulous examination of the blade for any nicks or scratches. _Light only knows how many stones she's been scraped on in all this business. _

Finding nothing wrong with her sword other than its filthy appearance and slightly dulling tip, she set about cleaning the blade with a soft linen cloth, uncaring that it would only be dirtied again soon. The back-and-forth motions made with each pass of the cloth were monotonous, but mesmerizing, and Tenaebriis lost herself in the simple, pleasant task, her mind blessedly quite.

Of course, it couldn't last.

A noon-stunted shadow moved into place a few inches from the toes of her boots, and Tenaebriis glanced up from her work to see Cailin standing about a foot in front of her, arms crossed over his chest and stance defiant. Inwardly, Tenaebriis sighed. _Either the lad has a complaint, or this is about to go very badly._

Cailin had been getting noticeably more agitated over the last few days; whether it was because of the current training regiment, the sparse, near-sleepless nights, or a preexisting issue with authority, the boy had fought her at every turn. He only just followed orders, and pushed her Light-given patience to its breaking point faster than any before him with his blatant disrespect for her and his other superiors. According to his report, he was no lord's son, so Tenaebriis had little idea as to why he acted the way he did.

And the way he was looking down at her now did not bode well: no salute, no proper greeting, just that frustrated glare as he waited for her to address him with barely concealed distaste.

"Recruit Rennd," She acknowledged, keeping the steel from her tone. "What is it?"

"Dawnslayer," Cailin replied. _No title. Boy, must you do this? _"I would like to know why I am under your _command._"

"You are under my command because I am your superior, and because the High General ordered it so."

"You misunderstand me. What I want to know is why I am taking orders from _you _and the High General and not from another."

"And what other would you be so inclined to, recruit?" Tenaebriis demanded, her voice hard. _Tread carefully, boy._

"I don't know." He huffed. "Lord Valdemar? Or Sir Oswick?" Though she could understand the newling's possible confusion of rank with Valdemar and Brigitte, she could not see the connection Sir Oswick made. Given, Brigitte had explained the man generally trained large groups of recruits such as these, but simply deviating from that norm could not possibly be—

The _man. _It was worse than she'd thought. _Or better, really, depending. At least the fool isn't entertaining thoughts of betraying the entirety of his betters._

Standing in a fluid motion, Tenaebriis stared evenly into Cailin's challenging eyes, her own cold, blued-steel. He shifted on his feet a bit at her movement, but stood his ground.

"Are you saying, recruit," Tenaebriis spoke coldly. "That you will not take commands from your _female _superiors?" Cailin's lip curled a bit.

"If they are _female,_" He said curtly. "Then they are not my superiors. I won't bow and scrape to them." A dangerous light flashed in Tenaebriis's eyes.

"Recruit Littlefoot!" She yelled suddenly, snapping the tiny, but quick girl to attention. "Run to the western abbey and fetch the High General. Tell her that there is an issue of insubordination that she need witness dealt with, and tell her I request her presence immediately. Understood?" The deceptively doe-eyed woman nodded, already on her feet. "Then go!"

Ignoring Cailin, Tenaebriis called the other recruits to attention, and hailed down a nearby Scarlet Guardsman. "The rest of you, watch, and know this: as bringers of the Holy Light, we are the hands of righteousness and swift justice; however, we also carry with us the burden of mercy to the deserving…and the ignorant. Let this display be forever a reminder of that duty." She turned to the Guard. "Brother, I would borrow your blade. Would you be so kind?"

"Of course, Legionnaire." The helmeted man replied, saluting, and removed his one-handed sword from the sheath at his hip. He passed it to her, and she, in turn, held it out to Cailin. He eyed it warily.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked, taking the hilt with no small amount of bewilderment. Tenaebriis rolled her shoulders, and proceeded to begin removing her heavy armor, revealing supple, but sturdy scarlet-dyed leathers underneath. As more and more pieces of plate were placed carefully in a pile at her side, she spoke firmly to both the confused boy and her gathered underlings.

"You, Cailin Rennd, are going to fight me. Single combat, a single sword each, no spells, no armor." He began a protest of some sort, but she overrode him. "Should you best me, you are free to take up arms with Sir Oswick, or to simply walk away. Should I best you, however, you will never speak another word against me, the High General, or any other of the women who would be your sisters in the Light—you will follow every order, execute every command, without fail or complaint, and you _will _show the proper respect to _every _one of your superiors."

Cailin's eyes slowly widened first with shock, and then narrowed in a challenging, if disbelieving sneer.

"You can't be seri—" He started, but was cut off just then as Maya Littlefoot came jogging up, Brigitte and a host of priests and guardsmen at her heels. The High General strode right up to Tenaebriis, eyes darting from the circle of spectating recruits, to her, to Cailin, to the blade in his hand, to the mound of armor at her feet, and back around again until they finally settled on her face, hard and questioning.

"What is going on here, Legionnaire?" She demanded in a voice that commanded complete attention. "This recruit informed me we have a viper among us. Is this true?" Tenaebriis looked back at her grimly.

"I do not believe so, my lady High General. Insubordination, foolishness, and pigheadedness, indeed, but it remains to be seen if the lad is truly traitor." With that, she extracted the only iron practice sword from the nearby sparse weapons rack, and waved the ring of people back. Her subordinates did so, and the others hesitantly followed suit, though Brigitte remained at her side. Tenaebriis bowed her head to her briefly.

"Allow me to ascertain for myself his loyalties. The boy's issues lie with my the gender of my fellow women and myself. Should I not be able to persuade him from this, then at that time we may seek a more appropriate course, if it pleases you."

"Very well, Legionnaire Dawnslayer." Brigitte sighed, her quick concession somewhat surprising. "As you will." And with that, she retreated, folding her arms behind her back at the waist, watching the two combatants critically. A hush fell over the immediate area.

Finally seeming to realize he had little choice in the matter, Cailin put some distance between them and readied himself in a loose defensive stance. _It would seem he is not _completely _without wit, if he will still be wary of the more experienced._

Tenaebriis paused long enough to remove a soft, worn strip of bold red cloth from her bodice, tying it around her forehead to hold back her long golden tresses. That done, she took a firm hold of her borrowed blade, _Redemption _left leaning against her previous perch, and advanced towards him.

Her strides were quick and direct, carrying her right up to Cailin, who fell back as she was upon him, so much faster than expected. Tenaebriis swung her blade up in an arc towards his shoulder, and he raised his sword up just enough to block the strike, steel singing as the metal clashed, sliding down to the guard. She was quick to pull back though, already moving again, and spun in a tight circle that had her strike flying at his side. Cailin stumbled back, just dodging, and recovered enough to slash at her back as he momentum carried her away from him; the cut didn't land, but it had been well timed. Tenaebriis's brow furrowed as she dropped into a crouch, avoiding his last swing.

_There. _An opening: as the boy's arm flung out to his side with the power he'd put into his last, failed sweep, his chest was left exposed. Tenaebriis tilted her blade upwards and sprang up in a slight lung, both hands crowding for room on the short hilt. She and Cailin both froze when the sharp tip of the sword made contact with the underside of his jaw—it bobbed as he swallowed, a thin red pinprick welling up around it with just that extra bit of pressure. Tenaebriis stared up into his wide eyes until he met hers…and then promptly drew her blade back, wheeled around, and gave him a whirling kick to his abdomen that sent him tumbling to the ground several feet away.

And just like that, that soon, their little duel was over. Cailin twitched where he lay, his mouth gaping open as he struggled to take in the air that she'd knocked out of him, his hands scrabbling at his chest. The sword he'd borrowed from the Guardsman lay in the dust, forgotten. Tenaebriis went forwards and picked it up, handing it back to the man without a word. He nodded his thanks.

She noted the gathered people, including the still-gasping Cailin, were watching her, likely awaiting her next move; however, she merely stared down at the winded recruit, face passive. It seemed he picked up on the cue, because slowly, watching her as she was him, he wobbled onto his feet and proceeded to kneel in front of Tenaebriis. Fisting his hand over his heart, he spoke carefully.

"I, Cailin Rennd, pledge my fealty to the lady Tenaebriis Dawnslayer of the Crimson Legion, and through her to High General Abbendis and all those above me, my life to the Scarlet Crusade and its holy mission, and my soul to the Holy Light."

"You are faithful, Cailin Rennd?" Tenaebriis asked him, placing a hand on his brow.

"I am faithful." He replied, pausing, then continuing demurely. "Stubborn, but faithful. Tenaebriis held back a snort and simply said a short blessing. When she was done, he stood, saluted to her, then to Brigitte. Both accepted the gesture with a nod, and Tenaebriis waved her recruits off, dismissing them for the day, Brigitte ordering her scrambled entourage back to the abbey. Once they were alone, Brigitte gave her a hard look.

"My order was to train the recruits, Tenaebriis, not to weed out the faithful. I gave that job to Bishop Street." Tenaebriis bowed her head.

"I apologize if I have acted outrageously, my lady. Know however, that as Rennd was put under my command—by you—that his refusal to follow my lead or yours based on the fact that we are women became my responsibility to reprimand. His impudence was, and likely may yet be, a danger to us all, and I would not let such traitorous frivolities be the downfall of my command." Seeing Brigitte's continued severity, Tenaebriis took on a more urgent tone, her voice dropping to an intent whisper. "You know we need to revive our ranks, Brigitte. I am aware we must surround ourselves with the faithful, not merely the zealous, but I am also aware that we cannot destroy the Crusade in our own righteousness. You've said as much yourself, and to Street no less. See as I see, sister: Rennd is a useful man, and should he prove faithful, he will be another invaluable member of our sacred order, as can our other recruits. Can you not trust in my faith?"

Brigitte seemed to be considering her words. She got a faraway look in her eyes as her expression warred between a grimace and scowl until seeming to give up and settle in a blank look. She fixed her eyes on a point over her companion's shoulder, and nodded slowly.

"You know I trust you, Tenaebriis. You, and the Light. I will pray for our success…do not, under any circumstance, give me cause to ask for our salvation as well."

"Yes, High General." Tenaebriis murmured, fisting her hand over her heart and bowing deeply. She stayed in that pose until Brigitte's footsteps faded in her ears. When she was gone, she straightened up, cast a thougtful eye at the retreating backs of her recruits, and moved to take up _Redemption. _

_ I will pray as well, sister. _She thought as strapped on her blade and gathered her armor. _For the day when you, I, and all like us may leave behind this wretched world knowing it has been cleansed. I will pray for a good death. I will pray it is soon. Light save us all._

* * *

_Dear Lucaius,_

_I dreamt of the oddest thing this night, Brother. It was not on par with my usual dreams, filled with death and shadow and blood, and the whispers of the Light. Tonight, I dreamed of simpler things. It fills my chest with an aching wistfulness I must crush before it can consume me._

_In my dream, I was back at Corin's Crossing, in our old house. I was in our bedroom, putting on my favorite blue dress. Mother came upstairs and began to brush out my hair, and tied ribbons in my pigtails when she was finished. It was strange, because even thought my body was as it is now, she still talked to me and treated me as she did at the time of the dream. I can't even remember how old I was then. Six? Seven?_

_It matters little._

_She took my hand and we went downstairs and mama went to the kitchen to make breakfast and sent me out to play. I went running out the door, and found you outside. You were talking to Marian, laughing, blushing. I marched up and demanded your attention. You laughed, and picked me up, and put me on your shoulders, even though I was in a dress. Marian looked up at me and smiled and left, just disappeared, like she was never there; and then you took off running in circles, yelling that I had to flap my arms like a bird if I wanted to fly. So I did. I flapped them up and down and up and down and you said not to fly so far that I ever forgot you and our home._

_And you know what I said? I said, "I'll never leave you, Brother. I won't fly away without you." And you just laughed again._

_I'm so sorry, Brother. I'm so, so sorry. They left you. _I _left you. Flew far away and left you to die._

_I shall never fly again. I swear it. Not until my mission is done. And when it is, it shall be into the sun I fly: I'll fly towards it until I burn up and fall back to earth as ashes to join you. _

_Brigitte, Marian, Cailin, everyone…I pray they burn up too, Brother. I pray we all burn, everything, and everyone, so that the world is purged clean._

_From our ashes, the new will rise: and may they never know this damnation. Won't the fires be glorious from where you are, Brother? I think they shall give you much joy._

_Take care, Brother._

* * *

As you may be able to tell, I'm still nailing down how I think the Crusade would work. Brigitte's in-game journal and the wiki are nice, but if anyone's got some suggestions on the inner workings of any sort of militant program, drop me a line. Thanks, and thank you for reading! Reviews are love. XD

Watashi


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